


Screwing Things Up for the More Magical

by SophiaCatherine



Series: At Home with the Legends [6]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, drabbles from tumblr, each ficlet individually tagged at start, ships in chapter titles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2019-09-12 02:09:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16864243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaCatherine/pseuds/SophiaCatherine
Summary: My second collection of Legends of Tomorrow shorts/drabbles. Each one is an individual story - jump in anywhere.Lots of ships and some gen - see chapter titles for details.Story ratings mostly T (if M, shown in chapter notes).Enjoyed these?I have another Legends short fics collection here. :)





	1. Lazy Morning (Zari/Sara/Charlie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Charlie, Sara and Zari’s night before...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter rating: M.   
> Chapter warnings: no sex but references to it, plus a lil bit of spanking and thoughts of more.

Sara blinks gummy eyes open as the doors to the captain’s quarters whoosh apart. “Rise and shine, suckers,” Zari’s voice says. Followed by a tray full so full of food, it’s terrifying. Bowls of cereal balanced on plates of pancakes wobbling on top of dishes full of eggs. “Breakfast,” says Zari, her grin peeking out from under the tray.

“That’s one way to describe it.” Sara yawns. She’s hit by a flash of annoyance that Zari managed to sneak out of the room without waking her. In her League days, that kind of poor discipline could have got her killed. Taer Al Sahfer, sleeping in late? She’s come a long way. Or fallen a long way—depending on your perspective.

She doesn’t have time to feel too tragic about this, though, with Zari beaming at her as she puts the food down by the bed. Especially not when Charlie stretches next to her, pulls herself up with a bleary look, and croaks, “Where’s the whiskey?”

Zari gives her a look. “It’s 9 in the morning. You can at least wait till the afternoon.” She shoots her a sarcastic smile. “And also, till I’m not around.”

“Fair enough,” Charlie concedes through a yawn.

Zari practically jumps over the two of them, landing on the left side of the bed. “It’s a good thing the captain’s bed is this huge,” she says. “Hey, Sara, when do I get quarters this cool?”

Sara reaches over to grab a piece of toast, dripping with butter. “When you run the place.” Zari grunts in feigned dissatisfaction next to her.

Charlie watches, eyes growing wide. Knowing exactly what she’s doing, Sara has let a tiny trail of butter escape the side of her mouth. Sara raises an eyebrow of permission at her, and Charlie reaches out with a thumb to catch it. Then she licks the butter from her own thumb, smooth as you like, and Sara’s… Oh god. Sara’s _gone_ on her.

This _was_ just a one-night thing, right?

As if she heard her think it—Sara hasn’t established whether Charlie actually has telepathic powers yet, but she’s seriously wondering if she’s at least an empath—Charlie says, “Last night was fun.” She grimaces a bit. “Once we got past the bit where it wasn’t.”

“Mmm,” Zari agrees happily, from her other side.

Sara glances at her friend.

Sara and Charlie have been circling each other like birds of prey for weeks now, and maybe this was always inevitable for them. But it’s taken Zari a lot longer to get to this point. She’s been standoffish with Charlie, irritated. It hasn’t occurred to Sara to wonder why. But now Sara wonders if, when her friend looks at Charlie, she’s still seeing Amaya. Even now. And damn, that’s got to hurt, with everything Zari never got to have with _her._

But clearly something shook itself loose last night, because here Zari is. She brought them food, and everything—the very definition of caring about someone, for Zari Tomaz.

Last night, a late mission had them at each other’s throats again, Charlie demanding to know why they’d sent a child of the _sidhe_ to hell. “She was a kid!” she’d yelled, inches from Sara’s face.

“It was a damn _fairy_ kid, who was trying to _kill us!”_ Sara had screamed back at her. “And it nearly did!” She was at the end of her damn tether, about to let loose some tightly-controlled assassin reflexes on the former shapeshifter, the _fucking monster,_ when she felt Zari’s hand on her arm.

“Sara,” Zari hissed in her ear.

Charlie was turning away, steadying herself against the back wall of the galley. Her shaking frame was shrouded in otherworldly blue light.

And suddenly, Charlie wasn’t the monster.

In a surreal, frantic moment, Zari had Charlie in her arms. Charlie fought her—and gave in, collapsing against her.

“She wasn’t an _it_ ,” was all she managed to get out, between desperate sobs. “She was a kid.”

They sat up talking till 3 in the morning, cross-legged on the ground, all three of them. One of Charlie’s hands was braced against the galley floor, the whole time, like she didn’t believe it would hold her up. Like she didn’t believe any of this was real. Zari never let go of her other hand, though her own eyes were distant and tinged with red.

And somehow that led to Zari kissing Charlie, and then to Sara kissing both of them… And, well. Here they are, the morning after.

Sara sneaks a look at Charlie. She seems okay now. She always seems okay. But now that Sara thinks about it, she’s not sure she would know what Charlie’s normal looks like, or how far she’s drifted from it.

Sara briefly wonders what she looked like, the year after she left the League. And whether anyone around her—Oliver, Laurel, Felicity—could tell how far into dark waters she had drifted. How desperately she was swimming against the tide, fighting not to drown.

“I can feel you staring,” Charlie objects, breaking into Sara’s daydream, but her tone is a little softer than usual. (Empath. Totally.) Charlie reaches over her and grabs a croissant. Sara does a double take at the tray. When did croissants arrive on there? Zari’s a miracle worker.

As Charlie leans back into bed, she catches Sara still looking at her, sticks out her tongue at her captain, and _shakes_ a little pile of crumbs onto the sheets. Sara gasps. Charlie and Zari laugh out loud, in unison.

Zari turns her head to grin at Sara. “Oh, _she_ is just what you need,” she declares.

“Seriously?!” Sara shakes her head at both of them. “When did I lose control of this crew? There’s no fucking discipline on this ship anymore.”

On the far left, Zari giggles. “You run a ship with Rory and Constantine on it. Not to mention the two of us. When did you think you _ever_ had control of your crew?”

Charlie wiggles her butt, her pajama pants sliding down to reveal the curve of her finely-muscled body, a teasing hint disappearing into underpants. Sara swallows. Damn, that’s not fair. “You can bring some discipline right here if you want, _captain,”_ Charlie taunts, slurring the words together, bringing out an edge more of her sexy accent like she knows it makes Sara weak. She probably does.

Sara smacks Charlie’s butt, raising hoots of laughter from her magical crewmate. “Don’t tempt me, asshole,” Sara warns. Behind them, Zari snorts, and Sara leans over to look at her. “Oh yeah, you too.”

Zari waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “The perks of being captain.”

Sara runs a hand down Zari’s arm, and feels her shiver. “Can’t deny there are a few.”

Charlie grins, stretching herself out against the headboard. Sara lets her eyes drift down her fucking gorgeous body—and, yeah, maybe there’s a voice right in the back of her head saying _Amaya’s body,_ but she ignores it. If Sara ever looked at Amaya that way, she… never told her. She looks at Charlie, now, and sees someone completely different.

Still, she sends out a quiet apology to Amaya, even separated from them by years and distance as she is.

And then Charlie winks at Sara, reaching out for her, and Sara stops worrying about it. “So about that breakfast,” Charlie says, nodding at the tray.

“Mm?” Sara lets Charlie wrap her arms around her.

“Think I’d like to eat some of that syrup off you,” she murmurs into Sara’s ear.

Zari, who has grabbed an entire plate piled high with pancakes—and if she gets crumbs on the sheets, Sara _will_ be laying down some of that discipline she’s just threatened—says, “Eww, that’s disgusting.”

“Oh, please. You’d eat syrup off the floor,” Sara says. She’s maintaining excellent composure while her ear’s being nibbled by one of the hottest people she’s ever known. _She_ has discipline, like this crew could definitely stand to learn from. She makes a mental note to find out whether Charlie’s really up for that spanking, one of these days...

Zari hums. “In this hypothetical food situation, how clean is the floor, and how much syrup is left if I don’t?”

Sara laughs and grabs her arm. “You joining us, Tomaz, or are you just going to sit there and watch?”

A wicked smile crosses Zari’s face. She takes another bite of pancake. “Think I’m gonna enjoy the show first,” she purrs, settling back with a look of utter bliss.

Oh yeah, Sara thinks, as Charlie starts putting an apparently very talented tongue to work in all sorts of other places. There are definite perks to being the captain.


	2. Bad Day (gen - Sara Lance & Team Legends)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara's at her wits end with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Thette: The first time Sara cried in front of the Legends. (Given that she's cried in canon a couple of times, but I _think_ not in front of the crew since becoming captain, I went in that direction...) 
> 
> Chapter tags: emotional hurt/comfort, angst, team as family, Sara & Zari.

By the time they get back to the bridge, Sara’s barely keeping it together.

If this _total fuck-up_ of a mission wasn’t enough, she’s been awake since 5 this morning. She hasn’t even had a cup of coffee, because Ray and Charlie drained the pot and didn’t bother to refill it, and then they had to move out to deal with the troll rampaging through the Swedish countryside. Sara would be throwing up her hands and going to find caffeine, if she wasn’t currently putting up with the traditional post-mission trashfire they call debriefing. Captain’s fucking privilege.

Every time she thinks things can’t get any more annoying, her dysfunctional crew piles in with new ways to torture her—along with a few of the old standards.

Charlie’s getting right up in Sara’s face. She’s whining about not being invited to the pre-mission team meeting, sneering that she would have been able to give the troll a beat-down if she’d just known what it was.

(She was invited to the meeting. She couldn’t get out of bed in time. She’s making Sara long for the simpler times when she met threats head-on with a kick or a knife, not with the drawn-out torture of diplomacy.)

Leaning against the parlour door frame, John’s interrupting her with occasional smug opinions.

(Zari calls it warlock-splaining. She says the phrase needs work. Seems pretty spot-on to Sara.)

Speaking of Zari, she’s sitting on the step, her head buried in an iPad, only bothering to look up to roll her eyes or say something appropriately sarcastic.

(She yawns, and Sara stomps down on the urge to ask if they’re keeping her up.)

At the console, Ray’s looking like he wants to head for the hills. He could, too, what with the irritatingly idyllic landscape of the Scandinavian Mountains just outside the window.

(Sara’s got half a mind to hand him a compass and two sticks, remind him he’s an Eagle Scout, and wish him luck.)

In the corner, Mick’s trying to sneak away unseen.

(Clearly it’s been more than half an hour since he’s had a beer, and God forbid he should do any work without his perpetual alcohol IV. Sara doesn’t even bother telling him to stay.)

“Told you it was no use trying to kill it with fire,” John yells after him helpfully. “Shouldn’t even have brought the flamethrower.”

Bracing her hands on the console, Sara restrains herself from spinning on her heel and _losing it_ at him.

Mick steps back into the room. “It’s a fucking heat gun. If you call it a flamethrower one more time—”

“Give it up, mate,” John interrupts, laughing.

“I’m not your _mate_.”

Finally acknowledging something outside the internet, Zari rolls her eyes at them. “Could you two shut up?”

Charlie gives a dramatic sigh. “Sara, you didn’t even explain why I wasn’t—”

Sara starts counting down from ten in her head.

And just to tie this shit-show of a meeting up with a little bow, Gideon chooses that moment to manifest her blue head above the console. “I’m afraid, Captain, that Mr Constantine is technically correct. The reliance on fire, while a reasonable backup plan in the case that iron and running water failed—”

“No, you said fire would kill—”

“I said _Thor’s lightning_ could kill it! It’s not the same—”

Ray spins around, his voice resounding above the cacophony like an alarm bell. “John, are you saying this is Sara’s fault?”

Constantine takes a threatening step forward. “Yes, I bloody well am!”

Sara’s countdown reaches one.

She slams her hands down on the console. “Everyone out.” She barely raises her voice above a whisper, but the chorus of consternation has fallen silent around her.

“Sara—” Zari starts, iPad forgotten, her gaze intense on Sara.

“Not now, Z,” she says quietly. “Just… give me a minute.”

They trundle out, one by one. It’s usually worrying when the Legends go quiet, but Sara doesn’t care who she’s pissed off now.

When the bridge is finally empty, she draws in a deep breath, sits down on the floor, drops her head onto her knees and cries.

* * *

She’s not sure how much later it is when there’s a firm hand on her shoulder, comforting as the rising smell of coffee that’s arrived with it.

Zari’s pulling herself into a seated position on the floor next to Sara. She’s holding two mugs.

“One of those,” Sara croaks, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, “had better be for me.”

“Yes, you goober. And stop that.” Zari reaches into her pocket and passes Sara a tissue. She holds onto the second cup of coffee till Sara’s finished sorting her face out, then passes it to her.

Sara accepts it gratefully, though she can’t quite make herself smile yet. She wraps her hands tight around the mug, heat seeping into her cold hands through the metal surface.

(How long has she been cold?)

Both of them are quiet for a while, looking out at the scene beyond the bridge window, where the sun is eking out its last minutes of light over the mountains. Sara shields her eyes with a hand.

“I know we were being pretty Legends-y,” Zari says, her tone apologetic, and Sara chokes out a little laugh. “But, uh. Kind of a strong reaction to our usual crap...?”

Sara blows out a long sigh. “Didn’t sleep well.” She focuses on the mug in her hands. Warm and solid.

Zari tilts her head to eyeball her captain. But she doesn’t push, and Sara’s grateful.

She shifts around so she’s facing her friend. “D’you get nightmares, Z?”

There’s an edge of bitterness in the replying laugh. Zari catches her eye. “You too, huh?”

(The crack of breaking bones, the jab of a knife into a man’s side, the bright crimson of blood—)

Sara nods tightly at her mug, swirling the tawny liquid around. “Sometimes I wake up, and it’s so dark that I don’t know if I’m in Lian Yu or on the Am—” She coughs. “Took me a few minutes, this morning.”

(Just a few brutal seconds.)

“And then you know you’re not getting back to sleep,” she finishes, keeping her voice light.

(Breathe in. One, two, three, four. Breathe out.)

Zari’s hand is on her arm, her eyes still fixed on the shadowed mountains. Sara looks down at shaking hands again. (For fuck’s sake.)

“You know you can talk to us, right?” Zari’s voice is soft, understanding. Not patronising. “Don’t be alone if you’re having a bad day.”

Sara attempts to cover up her laugh.

Zari grins. “Fine, maybe not when we’re being all…”

“Legends-y?” Sara quirks an eyebrow.

(She’s breathing easier already.)

“That.” Zari’s grip on her arm loosens a little. “And if we’re being complete bastards, you can kick our asses.”

Humming in reply, Sara suppresses a grin. “Think if I drop the Waverider over a convenient ocean, I can get Rory and Constantine to walk the plank?”

“Oh, definitely.” Zari winks.

Sara rolls her eyes. “He really can be very… warlock-splainy.”

“Needs work.” Zari’s smiling into her mug.

Nodding seriously, Sara says, “Yeah, you’re right. We should add ‘cis’ and ‘white’ in there somewhere.”

Footsteps behind them, in long strides. Ray.

“So this is where we’re sitting?” He glances at a spot on the floor next to Sara. She gives him a wry grin.

He drops down to sit next to them, all a tangle of legs and a too-cheerful smile that usually comes with a 50-50 chance of either annoying the hell out of Sara, or blanketing her in welcome, familiar warmth. She’s surprised when he offers her his hand, and takes it. He grips hers tight in his bigger one.

(There’s power there, like all the Legends have. Dangerous and comforting in equal measure.)

“You okay, Sara?”

She nods, matching his smile. “I’m good now. Thanks, Ray.”

Charlie’s next to arrive, frowning at the floor before shrugging and bouncing down. She frowns harder at Sara. “You’ve been crying.”

Zari snorts and pats Charlie on the back. “Blunt, aren’t we?”

“Shut her up with cake,” says a gruff voice behind them, and Sara looks up at Mick Rory, struggling to get down to the floor. “Joints ain’t what they were,” he grumbles. He sets down a chocolate cake, already cut into six slices, and a pile of plates. “Made it yesterday. Was gonna bring it out later.” He shrugs.

“Great timing.” Sara grins at him, grabs a slice and shoves it at Charlie. Who does, in fact, shut up to eat it.

“Ooh,” Zari says, snatching up the biggest slice.

“Cut that one bigger for you,” Mick mutters at her, and she _awws_ at him, clearly only half going for sarcasm.

There’s a hesitant cough behind them. “This a private party, or can any thoughtless smug bastard join in?”

John actually sounds a bit embarrassed. Sara raises an eyebrow. “Please. Take a... bit of floor.”

He laughs and does as he’s told. He’s oddly quiet once he’s sat down, but he accepts his offered slice of cake.

Sara looks around at the bridge.

(Where they’ve all been through so much. Where she punched Rip for not telling her about Laurel. Where they mourned Leonard and Martin and, later, Rip himself. Where the Legends scrambled together countless ridiculous plans, some that actually succeeded—surprising her every time. Where she had her earliest encounters with Ava, strained at first, then stumbling into something wonderful. Where she’s found so many friends… family.)

On her right, Ray and Zari are arguing about chores. It sounds mostly good-natured.

On her left, Mick and John are comparing war stories about extra-legal activities, one more battle in their ongoing contest of performative masculinity.

Opposite her, Charlie glances up from her cake to smile at Sara. She smiles back.

(It’s good not to be alone.)

Sara lets her eyes drift up to the bridge window. The horizon is a perfect masterpiece of oranges and reds, painted across a stunning mountainscape. Maybe they should stay tonight, see if they can spot the Northern Lights.

She sits there, just smiling out at the mountains, as Ray and Zari’s argument gets significantly less good-natured, John and Mick’s voices rise into what could definitely be described as yelling, and Charlie starts threatening to punch someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to [Hiver Frost Elf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiver_Frost_Elf/pseuds/Hiver_Frost_Elf) for beta reading. <3


	3. Lost Dog (coldatom - Leonard Snart/Ray Palmer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from callionelb: coldatom - ‘Everything was going fine until you lost the dog!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a 5-sentence meme on tumblr. Except sometimes these became 6 sentences...

“I didn’t lose the dog, as such,” Ray protested. “I just, you know…”

“Gave it to the barbarians in exchange for their loyalty?”

“To be fair, they thought it was magical.”

“I have no idea why,” Len sighed, “since it was a _Chihuahua_ \- and now we can’t take it back to 2019, because you’re an idiot!”

“Details, details,” Ray said with a grin, leaning up to kiss him, as the barbarians, having figured out that the Chihuahua was magically useless, stormed towards them.


	4. Empty House (Zari Tomaz/Amaya Jiwe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a 'favourite ships' prompts series on tumblr with a grid of choices for ship, theme and genre. Peppersandcats prompted 'zamaya, empty house, fluff'.
> 
> Chapter tags: trauma, but only passingly referenced.

Zari’s twirling in the middle of the huge, empty hallway, her eyes screwed shut, her arms flung out wide.

She hears Amaya laughing as she descends the creaking staircase. “Are you having fun there?”

“Oh yeah.” She grins and doesn’t stop spinning. “I,” she says, beginning to pant with the effort of not falling over, “used to do this all the time in our house in DC.”

The next laugh is closer. Amaya’s apparently at the bottom of the stairs. “You were a strange child, weren’t you?”

“Yup.”

“Clearly you should never have stopped,” comes the wry reply, now even closer.

…No. She shouldn’t have.

Zari pulls up short, stumbles a little, and almost goes down— and then there are strong arms around her, Amaya’s martial arts reflexes coming in handy once again. Zari opens her eyes to see her girlfriend’s warm smile. “Hi,” Amaya says, her voice still amused, and then she frowns, running a hand down the side of Zari’s face. “Hey. What is it?”

Zari shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Come on, we’ve got this haunting mystery to solve, or Sara will have our asses.”

“No, wait,” Amaya insists, pulling Zari back where she’s trying to walk away. “The mission can wait - it’s hardly life or death.”

“Haunting. Definitely at least death,” Zari says, in an apparently-obvious attempt to deflect.

Amaya doesn’t fall for it, narrowing her eyes at Zari. “Did I say something wrong?”

She shakes her head softly as she trails her hand along the bannister railings. Rattle rattle, go the old wooden joints. “No. I just got a bit lost in a memory, that’s all.” She laughs under her breath, feeling Amaya’s eyes on her as she starts twirling again, slower and with her eyes open this time. “That house in DC was the last house of our own we ever lived in. Last time I really ever got to play, you know? Then it was refugee camps for a bit, and then squatting with friends in the resistance, and… institutions, and stuff.” Her voice has taken on a false light note. She shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter.”

“Of course it matters,” Amaya says, after a quiet moment. And then she smiles, grabbing Zari’s hand. “There was this game we used to play…” She gets that focused expression, the one that usually means she’s translating from Zambesi. “Chihwande-hwande. Closest translation is ‘hide and seek’, but it’s not quite that.” She pulls at Zari’s arm. “Come on. I’ll show you!”

Zari aims a doubtful look at her girlfriend. “Amaya. Mission. Focus. We don’t have time for a silly game. There might be actual ghosts in this house, or knowing our luck, more likely demons. They probably want to eat us alive. I’m good with avoiding that.”

Amaya keeps tugging at her arm, frowning when Zari stands her ground. “Ugh, fine, you’re right. But okay, how’s this? We find the ghosts-that-might-be-demons, John can swoop in like a superhero in a cape, since that’s  _his_  favorite game, and then we’ll get Ray and whoever else wants to join us. The whole crew. You can scare Mick, annoy Sara… it’ll be great.”

When Zari just looks at her even more doubtfully, Amaya grins, and starts spinning in the middle of the empty hallway. Screwing up her eyes, throwing out her arms, and twirling with far more grace than Zari could ever command.

“You’re not gonna stop till I say yes, are you?”

“Nope.”

Zari laughs out loud. She leans back against the bannister, taking in her graceful, stunning, and ridiculously sweet girlfriend, with her face screwed up adorably tight, her lithe arms an easy ripple of muscles. Her girlfriend, who’s one of the kindest people Zari’s ever known. “You’re really something, aren’t you?”

“Dizzy, is mostly what I am.” But she doesn’t stop spinning.

Zari’s right there to catch her when she starts to fall.

“Good reflexes,” Amaya says, before Zari kisses her. At least partly to shut her up. Well, they do have a mission to get on with.

If they linger a moment before heading off on the ghost hunt, it’s only because it’s a very good kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr at SophiaInSpace, where you can find all the ship prompt fills under the [birthday prompts](https://sophiainspace.tumblr.com/tagged/birthday-prompts) tag.


	5. The Assassin and the Rogue (Sara Lance/Leonard Snart)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crypticbeliever123 prompted "Captain Canary + safe house + role reversal AU"

At the door of the safe house, Snart stills like the dead.

There’s a cold gun pointed right at his face.

A deadly woman in a parka is wielding it. She’s deceptively small, blond - easy to underestimate. That’s all part of the act, he thinks, watching her stance, her snarl, her obvious familiarity with that gun she’s pointing at him - almost cradling it, the gun moving with her like it’s part of her. Even if he didn’t know Captain Cold by reputation, he can see she’s a shoot-first kinda girl.

“So,” he says, taking a probably-stupid step forward, “the base of the famous Rogues, hmm?” Ra’s has tried to teach him the lesson that his tendency to show off will get him killed one day, but somehow Snart never learns. What’s the point of this game, if you can’t have a little fun? He makes an obvious show of looking around the dark warehouse. “Nice. Not very homely, though. You should spruce up the place a bit.”

Cold growls, a look of recognition crossing her face. “You’re the assassin.”

Well, that’s unfortunate. The League will… not be happy, if they hear she saw him coming.

He leans back against the wall by the door, crossing one leg over the other in a show of nonchalance. “I can have that gun off you and you on the ground before you can take your next breath.” He’s not bragging, just telling the truth. Why he’s telling her this at all instead of just doing it, he doesn’t know. But he’s always been willing to throw away the plan when the shit hits the fan.

She smiles. It’s probably meant to be cocky and intimidating - would be, if he were anyone else - but all he can think is how lovely she is. Not an ideal thought for an assassin with a job to do and a reputation for never letting a single  _feeling_ get in the way of his work. Feelings are inconvenient. Tend to lead to messy things like dying.

“You’re not gonna kill me,” she says, sharp eyes narrowed at him.

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I can make you a better offer than the League can.” She lowers the cold gun and takes a careful step towards him. Her eyes take in the whole of his body, clearly assessing his build, the potential deadly skill held in every well-trained move and muscle. He suddenly feels almost naked in his black League uniform, designed for easy movement and probably showing off quite a lot of him. She smiles again - this time it’s a look of interest, intrigue. Like he’s a challenge she wants to take on.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, he has far too many  _feelings_  abut this job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the 'birthday prompts' (a week of Legends & the Flash ficlets) can be found on tumblr [here](https://sophiainspace.tumblr.com/tagged/birthday-prompts).

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments and always reply! Come find me on [tumblr](https://sophiainspace.tumblr.com/), [dreamwidth](https://sophia-catherine.dreamwidth.org/), pillowfort, or [twitter](https://twitter.com/SophiaCatherin5).


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